KQ Article

It was just another Sunday in September, and I was supremely content with my detached interest in football. I had no desire to learn about the game’s intricacies or the personalities of the players. I was comfortable with football being just another symbol of autumn — and a puzzling source of obsession on behalf of the boys with whom I share my home.

On this particular Sunday, we had tickets to the game for my local professional team, the Minnesota Vikings. My excitement about the excursion was lukewarm at best. However, it did mean an entire day spent with my family, so I agreed to tag along.

We decked ourselves in purple attire and arrived at the stadium two hours before kickoff. For it was essential that we not only attend the game, but get there early enough to take in all the pre-game warm-ups on the field.

SEEING PLAYERS AS PEOPLE
The stadium was still locked, so we camped out in the players’ parking lot to get a glimpse of these gridiron heroes walking into the private entrance. Some arrived alone, others in groups. I was struck by how small these players seemed, shorter and smaller than I expected. They ordinarily look so massive and otherworldly on my widescreen TV.

I noticed their choice of clothing. The team’s star player was dressed in an expensive suit. Others donned more casual but equally sharp clothing, and a few arrived in standard workout gear. I wondered what it was like to wake up as a pro football player on game day. This used to be an unfathomable prospect, but now I could sort of imagine it. These larger-thanlife personas seemed more like ordinary people as I watched them cross the lot.

We went inside to observe the pre-game routines from the sidelines. Free of helmets and gear, each player seemed wholly committed to his unique warm-up ritual to get in game mode. They obviously put their hearts into their profession. I was getting to know — and take interest in — these players as people.

Was I becoming a fan? I suddenly felt an undeniable emotional connection to this team and a sincere interest in the game’s outcome.

FROM DETACHED TO PASSIONATE
Cheering came naturally when official play began. I was fascinated by the contributions of each player, who I seemed to know almost personally by now. When the team stumbled, my heart sank, but I stayed positive. I willingly offered a second, third, even fourth chance.

And stumble the home team did. After the loss, the man seated behind us screamed “You suck!” to each player leaving the field. We were seated right next to the corridor that leads off the field and into the locker room, so this insult was clearly audible to its intended recipients.

I felt compelled to protect the players from such harsh criticism, so I tried to provide positive cheer to drown out the less favorable statement. This heckler wasn’t in the parking lot and on the sidelines before the game. To him, these were still players, not people.

LET THEM GET CLOSER
The concept that intimacy can foster loyalty is not new. But look what happened to me. My entire perspective about football shifted dramatically by simply getting closer to the field.

What is the lesson for financial institutions? Consumers are often content in their relationships with us, but maybe such contentedness is not in their best interest. I wasn’t looking for an attitude change that Sunday, but change certainly happened, simply because I had a chance to connect with the players before the game.

So if you want to take customer connections to the next level, try removing the helmet and pads of the banking bureaucrat. By doing so, you’ll let them see you as a fellow human being, not a player on some distant team. And you might make a loyal fan out of a casual consumer.

_{© 2010 Martie Woods}